


And Back Again

by Vera (Vera_DragonMuse)



Series: Those Who Wander [2]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-02
Updated: 2016-03-04
Packaged: 2018-04-07 08:45:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4256952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vera_DragonMuse/pseuds/Vera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fun, rambling trip to visit old friends takes an unexpected turn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Home is Behind

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place a handful of years after the bulk of Those Who Wander, but about ten years before the epilogue. Call it the summer of '78 if you want to get exact.

With a shove, Fili got the last clean shelf slotted into the fridge. A lone can of pickles sat in the door and he considered sweeping it into the trash. 

“Seriously, Fi,” Kili leaned into the doorframe. “It’s go time. You’re killing me with this.” 

“The Great Stink of ‘74 is gone, but not forgotten,” Fili braced himself on the door and pushed up. 

“I refuse to say I’m sorry again, let it go,” Kili rattled Marigold’s keys. “We’re going now.” 

“Did you-” 

“Everything is in Marigold except you and me. I even packed your leg. So let’s go.” 

“Fine,” Fili reached for his cane and did a neat pivot out of the kitchen, brushing up against Kili as he went. He caught brine, a rumor of an early morning trip to the ocean clinging to Kili’s skin. “I would’ve gone with you.” 

“You were sleeping,” Kili shrugged it away, turning away. “C’mon.” 

Marigold wasn’t what she had been, the old girl had lost her flamboyant paint job and gained a more sedate powder blue. Kili spent more time repairing her than she did on the road. 

“You think she’ll last the trip?” Fili touched the passenger door, ran his fingers over where her racing stripe had once gleamed. 

“I told you she would,” Kili bit out with more venom than Fili was prepared for. “Just...she will. She’ll make it.” 

Fili frowned at him, but Kili had already turned away, making his way around to the driver’s side. From inside, Bonnie barked and leapt to swipe a wet nose mark across his window.  
“Everyone’s rushing me today,” Fili grumbled to himself. Once inside the van, Bonnie climbed into his lap and curled herself up for a nap. Her muzzle had gone grey and her step was no longer so springy, but otherwise she was still his scrappy pup. He rested his hand over her chest, content to feel her heart fluttering under his palm. 

“Got your route?” Kili fished out a pair of sunglasses and shoved them on before Fili could catch his eye. 

“Yeah, you sure you don’t want to pick a stop?” 

“No,” the engine started, reluctantly at first then purring to life. “There’s nothing I want to see.” 

Considering that Kili had pushed for the trip in the first place, Fili wasn’t sure what to make of that. He pulled his map from the glove box. It was crisply new, a route marked with the soft tip of a pencil ready to be wiped away at a moment’s notice. 

“We can still get plane tickets,” Fili offered. 

“This way...” Kili started, but didn’t finish. 

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” 

Kili put his foot on the gas without a word. They peeled away from the curb, away from their carefully built life and back down the road. With frown, Kili reached out a snapped on the radio, filling the tense air with David Bowie and the morning DJ’s rambling advertisements. Fili fought the urge to look back as they left San Francisco behind. 

They had traveled since their big trip all those years ago, long weekends spent travelling the California coastline or venturing into Mexico. Overnighters to see Tauriel were regular events, marked with favorite restaurants and campsites along the way. Kili yearned for those outings, full of nervous joy in the days running up to their departure and all wide grins behind the wheel. 

Although, this was the first time they were going back to Wyoming. Fili set his foot up on the dash, steadying Bonnie as she shifted over his thighs with a grumble. It had been at the back of Fili’s throat to ask for it for years. A lingering desire to return to the home that had taken them in with such ease, but there was always something stopping him. Some other thing to preoccupy them, somewhere else to go and some new memory to make. 

He’d never stopped writing to Eowyn. Their letters were long and rambling, more diary entries than dialogue. Often Faramir and lately, Boromir, would trail notes in the margins or bundle in sheet music. From Aragorn there was nothing, but an oily smudge on some of the papers, places where he might’ve read through them before putting the letter into the box. They were hardy, sustaining things and after he read them, Fili felt as though he’d tucked into one of Faramir’s stews.

Idly, Fili took out a coin and practiced dancing it over his knuckles. He wanted a cigarette so bad he could half-taste the nicotine, but Kili had the pack and damned if he was going to ask for it. 

Bowie gave way to the BeeGees and Kili’s hands were so tight on the wheel that his knuckles were blanched white. 

Fili could feel the warning pangs of a phantom foot cramp, the tension worming into his hindbrain. The coin shivered and fell into his palm. He leaned forward and snapped off the radio, worry intensifying when Kili didn’t seem to notice the abrupt silence. 

“If you’re going to San Francisco,” Fili sang softly, “be sure to wear some flowers in your hair. If you’re going to San Francisco, you’re going to meet some gentle people there.”

Bonnie snuffled and rolled into his stomach. 

“For those who come to San Francisco, summertime will be a love-in there,” Kili sang back, his voice a pale shadow. “In the streets of San Francisco, gentle people with flowers in their hair.” 

“All across the nation, such a strange vibration,” they went on together, harmony between Fili’s baritone and Kili’s tenor, “People in motion, there's a whole generation with a new explanation people in motion, people in motion...” 

Kili broke off, a burr choking him into silence, so Fili finished it for him. 

“For those who come to San Francisco, be sure to wear some flowers in your hair,” Fili reached across the divide, rested his hand on Kili’s thigh. “If you come to San Francisco, summertime will be a loving day.” 

One hand slid from the steering wheel to lay over Fili’s knuckles. 

“Flowers,” Kili choked out. “Something else with flowers, please.” 

So Fili sang the folk songs that Kili never listened to on the radio. The songs that ran through them both now like veins of gold in a mine. He sang about lemon trees and soldiers come and gone. He sang about man’s shortcomings and civil rights. He sang about bells and hammers and shining lights. Eventually, Fili turned his palm upward and their fingers laced tight together. 

When he couldn’t think of another, he let the last clean note stutter into silence. 

“You going to tell me what this is all about?” Fili dared to ask. 

“Give me a day,” Kili squeezed hard then released his hand altogether, shifting so the long curtain of his hair obscured his mouth. Surreptitiously, Fili wiped away their conjoined sweat on his shirt. “I just...I don’t think I can say it out loud yet.” 

Gut punched, Fili tore his gaze away from Kili’s shielded face to the view scrolling past the window. He counted cars and tried not to imagine the worst. Surely this wasn’t the way it ended? Not with the two of them exactly where they should be, their baggage long ago squared away and their fierce edges sanded down. 

“Are you hungry?” Kili asked, some liquid measure of time later. 

“No,” Fili closed his eyes against Kili, against the growing ache in a foot no hand could rub and against the blazing sun that pierced through the windshield. 

He dozed off. If nothing else, Vietnam had taught him how to summon sleep and wrap himself in the break of unconsciousness. The real world didn’t entirely fade away, he couldn’t help, but be aware of Marigold’s clicking engine and the return of the radio. At one point, Kili tugged the map from his fingers, doubtless preferring to navigate with paper folded over the steering wheel then dealing with whatever new knot had tied itself between them. 

When Marigold rumbled to a stop, Fili reluctantly pried open gummy eyes. Bonnie was already prancing, pawing at the door until he swung it wide enough for her to wiggle out. He followed her more slowly, head muzzy. 

“Here,” Kili was kneeling down beside the van, holding Fili’s prothstetic. 

“Hurts,” Fili muttered, cupping a hand around Kili’s shoulder. 

“Sorry,” Kili didn’t look up like he normally would, but he was fast with the straps now and Fili didn’t mind cedeing him the task once and a while. “What’s up with this lake anyway?” 

It was a nice enough lake, large and placid. Bonnie gleefully peed on a rock before charging back to them. 

“It’s Donner Lake,” Fili explained. “I thought you’d-” 

“Donner Lake?” Kili stood up in a flash, new appreciation in his voice. “I didn’t realize it was so close.” 

“Morbid,” Fili teased, gently, gently. 

“Yeah,” Kili didn’t tease back, only walked closer to the shore. “Guess so.” 

Fili took his time heading down to the shore, heading the ache and his sleep clogged head. By the time he reached the water, Kili had discarded his shoes, rolled up his pant legs and waded into the water. 

“Cold?” Fili asked mildly. 

“Not really,” Kili tucked his hands in his pockets. “Can you imagine it? How desperate they must’ve been?” 

“I prefer not to.” 

“To be reduced down to that,” Kili tilted his face up to the sun, rays catching on the first hints of grey scattered in his dark mop. He was only thirty-four, but Fili could see the marks of age staining his brother’s eyes and lips, drawing away incrementally the vitality that he so loved. “To only the need to survive...” 

“It’s not as glamorous as it sounds.” 

“It’s still living though. It’s still...something.” 

“You think? When you have to live with what you’ve done afterwards?” 

“What did you do?” 

Fili wrapped his arms around himself, and stared out over the water. 

“I came home to you, asshole.” 

Bonnie deposited a seriously moldy tennis ball at Fili’s foot. When he tossed it into the lake, she gave him an exasperated look and mournful bark, but it was worth it to see the water splash up and catch Kili unaware. 

“We’re a half hour of Reno,” Kili mumbled as he slogged back towards shore. “Mind if we stop for the night?” 

“But we were having so much fun,” Fili said flatly. 

“Figured you’d be excited. Get to fleece some shitheads at poker.” 

“What the fuck? Do you want to fight? I mean if you really want to have it out, let’s go, but you better give me a damn good reason first!” 

“I don’t!” Kili threw up his hands. “I’m sorry...really. Just...let’s go, okay? I don’t want to be here anymore. It’s giving me the creeps.” 

“Fine,” Fili gritted out. Hackles raised, he was spoiling for a good fight now. No one got under his skin like Kili, could make him so crazy so quickly. Had he just been thinking about smoothed edges? They still caught each other all over like thorns sometimes, provoking blood and lust hot in their stomachs. 

by the time they reached the first likely looking hotel in Reno, Fili was fit to burst. As soon as reasonably possible, he stuck his hand into Kili’s tight pants pocket and fished out the pack of cigerettes. 

“Hey!” Kili jumped back, nervous eyes scanning the parking lot for onlookers. 

“Go get us a room, if you care so much about being seen,” Fili snapped. Unfairly, but fuck it. He took a drag and half-collapsed against the van in relief. It never seemed like a problem to let Kili hold onto them until it was and then he forgot all over again, preferring the convenience of not having to remember to buy more. 

“Fine,” Kili stormed off. 

“Got a light?” Someone asked and Fili took his eyes off Kili’s retreating back to find a pair of scrawny teenagers looking expectantly at him. 

“Your mom know you’re smoking?” 

“Bought me my first pack,” the taller one said with a grin. 

“What the fuck ever, here.” Fili flipped them his back up matchbook. “Take it. Try not to burn down the hotel.” 

“Thanks! HEY, FRODO!” The smaller one ran off, carrying the matchbook. “Come have a light!” 

“Shut up, Pip!” Two more teenagers, sitting on a roof a car flailed uselessly at him. 

The four of them gathered in a tight circle, then pulled away with four lit cigarettes and the same haunted expression. Fili frowned. 

“We’re in room 38,” Kili announced, pulled up short. “What?”

“Look,” Fili indicated the group with his chin. “That sit right with you?” 

Kili looked. Looked again. 

“Something’s wrong.” 

“What do you think?” 

“I’ve got it.” 

Fili waited, watching Kili approach with a low key greeting. The kids bunch up, wary-eyed and and their hands shoved too deep in their pockets. With that easy manner that had cajoled Fili back from the brink more times than he cared to count, Kili turned the stiff scared bodies into relaxed curves. Eventually, he turned back to Fili and the boys trailed after him like ducklings. 

“Think we got enough to front for a second room?” Kili asked. His sunglasses had been tucked away and now Fili could see eyes red rimmed with weeping. 

“Of course,” Fili said, too soft, betraying himself as the anger seeped away. 

“Okay,” Kili offered a faint smile. “They need some help getting to D.C.. Figured...well. Get ‘em as far as Wyoming then figure out the rest. Their car works alright, but there’s not enough for much else.” 

“I brought some cash for emergencies. Think this counts.” 

United in purpose, they settled the boys into the room next to theirs and ordered them three large pizzas which were promptly devoured. Their story came out in snatches, the escape from their small town and the discovery of a world a little bigger than they bargained for. One accidental drug smuggling incident later and they were running across the country to get state’s evidence back where it belonged. It was all a little fantastical and, Fili suspected, half-made up at least. Still, they were scared kids with no money. 

“Maybe Faramir still has some contacts,” Kili mused when they finally got into their own room and closed the door firmly behind them. 

“They’ll probably be gone in the morning. Least they got a decent meal and a roof for one night.” 

“Cynical, Fi.” 

“Reality is cynical then.” 

Kili took a shower to wash off the lake muck while Fili watched a sitcom rerun. The shower ran for a long time and when Kili finally emerged, his eyes were redder than before. 

“Can we sleep?” He asked, little boy weary. 

Fili opened his arms wide and let Kili settle into him. He kissed the crown of his head, ran his hand down the beloved spine, and listened to the clamor of voices next store smooth into silence.


	2. The World Ahead

It had become Fili’s habit to wake before his brother. He liked those early morning minutes enjoying the warmth of their shared bed, then slipping away to shower and start the coffee that they would share with the news babbling gently in the background. They ate bowls of sugared cereal, the crap their mother would’ve killed them for having or toast slathered in strawberry preserves that Kili bought from a friend who made them herself. 

Today, Fili opened his eyes to a ceiling with unfamiliar cracks. When he rolled over, he discovered Kili staring at him across the pillows, eyes still faintly pink in the early morning slivers of light. 

“Do you ever have a dream that doesn’t seem to end when you wake up?” Kili asked, reaching out to cup a hand around Fili’s bicep, grip a little too hard. 

“Yeah, a time or two,” Fili moved closer, tips of noses brushing together. A hint of boozy breath wafted from Kili’s direction. 

“Sometimes, I wonder if I fell asleep years ago. Behind the wheel on my way back to you or before that...like a long crazy coma dream.” 

“You think coma dreams have work every day and stubbed toes?” Fili reached out, clutched at Kili’s t-shirt. 

“Maybe. Why not?” He closed his eyes, ducked his head under Fil’s chin. 

“It’s all too messy to be a dream,” he sighed. “How much whiskey did you drink?” 

“All of it?” Kili shrugged, a messy gesture rucking up the sheets. “I only meant to get one and then come back to bed, but the bar was kind of far and the walk woke me up and the place had darts, so I played a few rounds.” 

“I would’ve gone with you.” 

“I know,” Kili kissed the hollow of his throat. “I just needed to air out my stupid brain.” 

“Wish you wouldn’t air it out with liquor.” 

“Used worse before. So have you.” 

“We’re not boys anymore.” 

“Aren’t we?” 

Kili’s breath hitched and he burrowed closer. 

“You want to stay off the road today?” He offered, throwing his good leg over Kili’s hips to allow for the awkward angle. “Get that hangover off your back first?” 

Kili shrugged, the hard planes of his shoulders shifting under Fili’s hands. 

“C’mon, let’s get clean at least. Hot water will do you good.” 

The shower was a stall, barely wide enough for two full grown men, but they made do. Kili was still clinging, water drumming over him and soap spread heedless as he worked to keep as much skin to skin contact as he could manage. Considering the slippery floor, Fili wound up grabbing for purchase more than once. 

“You trying to give us both concussions?” He finally snapped and Kili leapt back as if bitten, only to careen into the wall and wind up a soggy mess at Fili’s foot. 

“Whiskey,” Fili cursed. 

“Sorry,” Kili tilted his face up the shower spray. “I’m a fucking idiot, I know.” 

“Yeah. Well. You’re my fucking idiot, right?” Fili turned off the water. 

“Yeah,” Kili got up slowly, carefully. “As long as you’ll have me.” 

A knot unfurled in Fili’s chest. He let go of his foolish fears and for a moment felt nearly peaceful. 

“Suppose I’ll keep you.” 

They toweled off with the scratchy bleach scented towels and Kili brushed out his mangled hair while Fili started ticking through the list of possibilities. It was small and none of them appealed. 

There was a crash next door and the memory rushed back in all at once. 

“Fuck,” Fili dropped his face into his hands. “The boys.” 

“Think we’ve got enough cash to put breakfast in their bellies?” 

It proved unnecessary. As they were getting dressed, Sam knocked politely on the door and proffered a tray with coffee and a folded over bag that contained a pile of donuts. 

“Merry and Pip,” and a weary shrug were his only explanation. 

“Yeah?” 

“We should probably head out,” Sam added. “You know. Get on the road. We just wanted to say thanks.” 

“You sure? We can get you a little further down the road.” 

“Don’t want to be a bother.” 

“Be more bothered worrying about you,” Fili frowned. 

“We can take care of ourselves, sir.” 

“You’re carrying dangerous cargo. And we know people that can help, I promise.” 

“Sam...” the curly haired one with enormous eyes walked carefully into view. Frodo, he recalled. Frodo, Sam, Merry and Pippin. They seemed to swarm together with the kind of electric energy Fili had lost in Vietnam. 

“We can,” Sam lifted his chin in challenge. “We’ve done alright on our own.” 

“For a very thin definition of alright,” Frodo laid a hand on Sam’s shoulder, raked his eyes over Fili and Kili in turn. “We’ll follow you. If we don’t like what we see, don’t be surprised if we peel off and don’t try to follow.” 

“You know when I was a kid, I hitchhiked with strangers all the time,” Kili leaned in, resting his chin on Fili’s shoulders. “Suspicious lot, this new generation.” 

“Good for them,” Fili snorted. “What good did trust do us?” 

“Cynic.” 

“Hippie.” 

Frodo coughed. Their attention fell back on him in a guilty tandem. 

“Deal?” Frodo asked. 

“Deal,” Fili held out his hand. 

Frodo’s fingers were surprisingly short and rough, at odds with his baby smooth face. 

Pulling out of the parking lot, Fili caught sight of the boys loading into their car. Some kind of deep conversation occurred, before the car reluctantly pulled out to follow them with Sam at the wheel. 

“You think Faramir still has worthwhile connections?” Fili asked. Bonnie wandered up from her doggie bed in the back and jumped into his lap. 

“I think one of them might and it’s better than letting them go. Who knows what could happen to them?” 

“Yeah. Bit dangerous to let kids go traveling across the country,” Fili said. He meant it to be funny, but it came out all wrong. 

“Yeah,” Kili turned Marigold towards I-80. They left Reno behind without a single stop at a casino. 

Fili had meant to spend the day here, find a decent poker game and make enough for a good dinner. Spending his days balancing the books for small businesses only got him so far. Kili hated when he gambled, so Fili wasn’t going to tell him that the emergency fund game from the floating game that Nori ran occasionally. The stakes were low enough that Fili could fund his game without tapping into any of their shared funds. He made sure never to risk more than he could afford to lose and walk away when he was winning. All very reasonable. 

Kili would probably murder him when he inevitably found out. 

Maybe it was for the best that they were leaving Reno early. Still, Fili mourned a little for the leisurely vacation he’d painstakingly picked out. With their flight risk retinue, it wouldn’t do to make all the little nature stops he’d planned. 

“Next stop is seven hours away,” he rolled his head, loosening tense neck muscles. “Figure we stop for lunch and gas somewhere, then set up camp at the end of the day.” 

“Okay,” Kili had one limp hand on the wheel. 

“Want me to drive?” 

“Nah. I’m good. Read me something? Sick of the radio.” 

“You know I get queasy.” 

“C’mon, Fi? Please?” 

“Fine, fine,” he relented as if he hadn’t picked up a dozen battered paperbacks for just that purpose before they left. He picked on at random, showing the cover to Kili. 

“Sure,” Kili mustered a half-smile. “Looks good.” 

“Right, there’s a preface....” Fili flipped through, “Okay, here....For Madmen Only. Hm. Think we should go on?” 

“We’ve probably hallucinated enough to qualify.” 

“Fair enough,” he propped his foot up on the dashboard and pressed the book open against his thigh. The book has a cheap glue and dusty aura that he liked. “Ready?” 

“Ready.” 

“The day had gone by just as days go by. I had killed it in accordance with my primitive and retiring way of life.” 

Fili wound his way through the dense passages of _Steppenwolf_. Usually they talked as Fili read, breaking apart the text together. Today, Kili only listened or at least, appeared to listen. There was something at a remove from the wash of words about a man, who could not live with the world. The hungover quality left his eyes, but there was still that rubbed red look and the pull of lines about his mouth. 

“Let’s stop for lunch,” Fili injected. When Kili didn’t reply, he leaned over and touched his arm. “Hey, Kibble? You still in there?” 

“Yeah,” Kili blinked. “Yeah. I’m here. You haven’t called me that in a long time, you know? Like I was nine or something.” 

“Guess it just came out. We gonna stop for lunch or what?” 

“Right. Lunch.” 

When Kili was five, he’d eaten out of a cat’s bowl on a dare. Fili had called him Kibble until it became more of an endearment then a tease. Or so Fili thought. Their mother had called him aside one afternoon and Kili hated it, hiding tears from his big brother. After that, there were no nicknames for Kili. 

Fili couldn’t place why it had come to his lips just then. 

Their was a hot dog stand at a gas station not far off. The boys pulled in behind them, but only Frodo drifted over, sitting besides Fili to eat his hot dog. Despite his elfin features, there was something old and tired around his eyes. 

“We never asked why you guys were traveling,” he said quietly, picking his bun to shreds. 

“Road tripping,” Fili glanced up at Kili, who had drifted again with his eyes fixed to the horizon. “We go out and see America. Let America see us too, I guess.” 

“That sounds nice,” Frodo smiled vaguely. “We’ve been traveling, but not really looking much, you know?” 

“Yeah,” Fili could remember that first trip where he’d lost hours and once or twice a day to the hypnotic tread of tires on blacktop. “Maybe on the way back.” 

“The way back,” Frodo repeated, rolling the words over his tongue. 

“There’s always a way back,” Fili said firmly. “If you can’t get there yourself, someone else will carry you.” 

“Even if you’re a heavy motherfucker,” Kili chimed in, startling Fili. His eyes were bright, but his lips were curved into a smile.

“Asshole,” Fili grinned and kicked him gently under the table. 

“The biggest,” Kili agreed. 

A heavy heat had crept up as they ate. Kili rolled down Marigold’s windows and tucked his elbow onto her window frame. Kili’s left arm was always tanned three shades darker than his right. Rummaging through their bags, Fili produced a bandanna and Kili leaned forward for him to tie it around his forehead. 

“You want me to keep reading?” he asked as he straightened the knot to sit at the nape of Kili’s neck. 

“Dunno. It’s kind of a sad book. This guy is so lonely.” 

“I can switch to something else.” 

“Could you roll me something? We can let the radio fill up the quiet.” 

“You’re driving.” 

“I’ve driven stoned before.” 

“Kili.” 

“Fine. You can drive.” 

They switched places and Kili rolled his own joint, the smoke trailing out the window as they rolled along. Deprived of her favored lap and finding the dash too hot, Bonnie retreated under the long stretch of Kili’s legs. 

Fili didn’t switch on the radio and Kili didn’t reach for it. Nevada filled up the windshield and Fili looked at it. Tried to memorize the stretch of desert with the mountains looming in the distance. Wind hissed through the windows, stirring his hair even as he started to sweat. His stomach was full, he had slept and there were no expectations weighing him down. 

He hooked his left arm onto the window. 

A half hour lost in content musings, he recalled the reason that he generally did not lean his arm out the window. The burn was already well on its way, a fluorescent shade of pink. 

“Ugh. Why couldn’t I get Dad’s skin tone too?” 

“Hm?” Kili eyes were at half-mast and the joint long gone. 

“Nevermind,” Fili sighed. “Go back to sleep.” 

“Wasn’t sleeping,” he mumbled and then dozed off again. 

A small town appeared in the distance, wavy white lines then gone again. Clouds treaded across the sky. Bonnie woke up and he fed her the extra hot dog he’d bought, hand dangling down while she licked his fingers. 

The burn began to pulse, the early warning of future pain. 

Ah well. Let it come. He didn’t fear pain anymore.


	3. Many Paths to Tread

The skyline oranged, pinked and blued, before settling into clouded darkness. Kili slept on as Fili parked under a concrete overhang and the boy’s sedan fell in beside them. With care, Fili stepped through the mess of their belongings and opened the back doors. The cooling night air spilled inside and he sat on the bumper as Bonnie raced to do her business then returned at a more leisurely pace, pausing to sniff here and there. The boys, stretching and raucous, attracted her wary attention for a moment, before she puttered back to Fili to sit beside him. 

The bright lights of the parking structure drowned the scenery in darkness. They stood, nearly alone, in a bubble of life in a swath of quiet nothing. 

“I’m hungry,” one of the boy’s grumbled. 

“I’ve got sandwich fixings,” Fili told them and winced as they stampeded into Marigold, shaking her and sending cabinets flying open. 

Sam came out again, a sheepish expression as he handed Fili a massive pile of a sandwich. 

“You should take half of that,” Fili said with a laugh. "My stomach isn't young anymore." 

“Hold on,” Sam ducked back in and returned with a more reasonable affair for the both of them. 

The boys laughed and cracked wise, Kili’s voice joining them after awhile, but Sam stayed put. He chewed through his sandwich with Fili, looking out into the dark. 

“Where’s home for you?” Sam asked. 

“Little bit all over. San Francisco,” Fili shrugged. “Or Brooklyn. ” 

Or Kili. Mostly Kili. 

“I never went anywhere before now,” Sam looked at his feet. “Never wanted to. Thought I’d marry this girl and have some kids and grow tomatoes.” 

“You still could.” 

“Can I?” Sam glanced sideways at him. “Even if...then what? I go home and stuff everything I’ve seen back into a box? Pretend that it’s the same place it always was?” 

“Everything probably will be the same. It’ll just change you.” 

“I don’t want to change.” 

“Take it from an adult: no one really does. It happens though, to most of us.” 

“Sammy,” Merry leaned in, putting an apple into Sam’s hand. “do we still have any beef jerky? Pip thinks we do. Frodo says no.” 

“Maybe,” Sam huffed a sigh. 

“Saaaaaaaaaaaam,” Merry whined. 

“It’s in the glove compartment,” Sam allowed. “If you touch Frodo’s potato chips, I will end you. Understood?” 

“Yes!” Merry leapfrogged over Sam, landing catlike on the pavement and sprinted to the car. 

“Your friends seem less concerned.” 

“They don’t understand. They’re the kind that everything works out for. And I’m the kind that cleans it up after.” 

“I-” Fili wasn’t sure how he planned to end that sentence. Luckily, Kili chose that moment to lean in and shove half a chocolate bar in his mouth. “Mmph.” 

“We have to hide all of it before they pick us clean,” Kili muttered. “Vultures circling the wagon.” 

“You once ate an entire cake and then had dinner,” Fili said around the mouthful. “I thought Mom was going to cry.” 

“Stop slandering my good name.” 

“It’s only slander if it isn’t true.” 

“I have no memory of the incident in question.” 

“Uh huh.” 

“Whose guitar is this?” Frodo asked from inside.

“Fili’s,” Kili said firmly. “And if you eat it, God help you.” 

“I always wanted to learn how to play,” Sam said quietly. 

The impromptu lesson gave the night a warmer feel, Fili and Sam passing the guitar back and forth, breaking down chords and strums. 

“I taught myself,” Fili pushed one of Sam’s fingers into place. “Probably still do half of it wrong.” 

“Better than none at all,” Sam shrugged and eked out a reasonable C. 

The moon poked through the clouds, giving hints of the scenery glinting. Kili didn’t ask where they were though and Fili hugged the fraction of a secret close. 

“Play us something,” Kili demanded eventually. He was leaning against Marigold’s doors, early playfulness once more sapped away and replaced with something more melancholy. 

Fili pulled the worn beloved wood back into his lap. 

Unbidden, ‘Let it Be’ flew to his fingertips and he went with it. The song had come out the first year he’d lived in San Francisco, settling into a life devoid of gunfire and filled to the brim with his strange new/old relationship. They had jostled and rattled against each other that first year, by turns greedy for each other’s presence and desperately needing solitude to sort themselves out. 

‘Let it Be’ had been Fili’s anthem. A reminder to lay down so much pain and frustration and bath in the light. They listened to the album laid out on the floor, their feet in opposite directions, their cheeks pressed together. Kili had snagged a copy out from hungry hoards, intent simply because he knew Fili would want it. They shared a jay, smoke swirling above them as they listened to the last gasp of the Beatles before they went their separate ways. Most of it Fili didn’t much like, but Let It Be settled into his bones and stayed there. 

As he played and sang, Kili sat down behind him, heat pressed to his back. Two sly fingers, out of sight, slid under Fili’s shirt to rest at his waist. 

The boys chimed in one by one, their voices lovely and sweet. The darkness swelled with music, pushing back fears. 

“It’s a funny song,” Pip said in the quiet that followed. “Don’t think my mother ever lets anything be.” 

The boys trickled away after that, setting up a tent with minimal arguing and flickering flashlights. Kili heaved upwards, setting up their habitual nest, collapsing as if he hadn’t slept the afternoon away. Fili made a comma around him and fell asleep humming. 

They woke together at dawn, Kili’s eyes bright points in the buttery light. 

“Come see,” Fili tugged on his hand. 

The Bonneville Salt Flats stretched cracked and glistening before them. He’d read about them once, noted them on the map and forgotten until the trip came around. It was grander and harsher than he’d expected, that rolling forever of white. 

Kili looked gobsmacked. 

“It’s salt,” Fili reached for his hand, tangling their fingers together. “Cool, huh?” 

“Can we walk on it?” 

“Yeah.” 

The ground crunched beneath their feet, Fili’s cane leaving perfect circles beside his foot prints. When he got tired, Kili slipped away and walked on ahead. Fili was prepared to turn around on his own and wait, but before he could Kili stopped. 

He was frozen out there, a dark splotch on the horizon. One moment he was standing and the next he crumpled down. Adrenaline kicked in and Fili crossed the distance with cacophonous stride. The strong shoulders were bent into a tight U and they undulated in an earthquake of sorrow. Fili dropped down beside him, inelegant and panicked. 

“Kili,” he put his arm around him. “My God, what is happening to you?” 

“She’s gone,” Kili turned his face into Fili’s neck and Fili sat down hard into the crunching slush below. “They called me and the voice was so cold and dead. But I didn’t believe them. I didn’t listen. I was distracted and they’ve made mistakes before.” 

“Kili-” 

“But I got the ashes, Fi. They sent them to me in this sad little box with her clothes and things. It came the day before we left, so I packed it up. Wrapped her in her favorite scarf and set her in my duffel bag.”

“Jesus fuck, you should’ve told me! I would’ve-” 

“But it’s real now,” Kili sobbed, bitter and hard. “If I didn’t say it than I can could keep her alive that much longer. I lied about it. I’ve always lied about it. Pretended she was dead all the time because it was easier. It isn’t. At least she was still in the world somehow. 

And now she isn’t. And it’s darker and sadder and I hate it.” 

“Okay,” Fili hugged him as tight as he knew how. Hating himself for not guessing in the first place, wishing he had the magic to heal and ignoring the ugliest part of himself that nastily rejoiced at the departure of a rival. “I’m so sorry.” 

“I hate it,” Kili said again and then his sobs redoubled and all Fili could do was try to hold on. 

There in the salt flats, Kili left behind his own contribution. The faintest rain that dissolved away and left a few new grains behind.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did not want to leave this story undone, though I'm not a 100% certain that this is where is should end. It is where it ends for now and I hope that satisfies.

Fili tucked Kili into their bed and lay with him while the sun finished rising. 

“I’ll drive today,” he kissed the nape of Kili’s neck. 

“I can,” Kili let out a long, shaky breath. “I’d like to do it.” 

“It’s a pretty straight ride. Four or five hours....” 

“Let’s not stop then.” 

“Okay,” Fili pressed his forehead to Kili’s shoulder. “Straight on through morning.” 

Kili kept his silence as they finished the drive, his mouth set in a grim line, but the ugly tension had left the space between them. It left behind a melancholy peace that Fili didn’t bother breaching. Instead, he combed through Bonnie’s coat and cleaned her paws with wet wipes to get the salt out. 

The beauty of the lake set against the mountains was undimmed with time. The farm had spread some, the wild stalks of pubescent wheat encroaching on the road. Gravel had been laid on the formally dirt path, grinding under Marigold’s tires. The house looked very much the same, fresh coat of white paint and all. The boys tumbled from their car with hungry eyes, lingering at the picket fence as Fili negotiated himself across the treacherous gravel. 

He pushed through the gate, aware that Kili hadn’t made a move to get out of the van. Some things, he had to leave Kili to settle himself. He took the path carefully, maneuvered up the few stairs with his cane keeping time, then knocked on the door. 

It flew open under his hand and there she was. 

In another lifetime, on another world, maybe they would’ve been suited to one another. Their matching fair hair and incautious bravery might’ve made for a wild coupling. Instead, he stood only in mute adoration of his closest friend. 

“You look terrible,” she said with a radiant smile and they hugged hard. Her practical rosemary and lye smell folded him up and he could’ve wept with it. 

“You look like a glorious mess,” he retorted as he pulled back. She did too. Her clothes were wrinkled and her hair was bound back in a fraying braid. Sweat dotted her brow. 

“We just got in from weeding the vegetable patch. Never rest is the farmer’s motto,” she laughed and drew him inside. “How was the drive, you must be hungry, is Kili parking the car?” 

“I’m starving, the drive was...interested. We picked up a few passengers. Sorry.” 

The boys gathered at the door, all wide eyes and dirty faces as he explinaed the gist of things. 

“We’ve got a little guest cottage now. It’s not much, but it’ll sleep a few boys,” she decided briskly, leading them all into the kitchen. That too was as Fili remembered it though it was currently emptied of busy hands. “There’s plenty of food in the fridge. Let me wash up and heard the rest of the clan together.” 

The boys fell into the piles of food like barbarians. Eowyn returned from her ablutions with a sullen Boromir in tow, who only brightened when he saw the other boys gathered around the table. They were all soon jabbering about movies that Fili had never bothered seeing, edging him slowly out of the conversation until he was leaning against the counter with a mug of tea in his hand and Eowyn bemused beside him. 

“I cannot remember having that much energy,” he grumbled. “Or that big a stomach.” 

“And thank God for that,” Eowyn laughed. “Who needs to remember all those insatiably appetites?” 

A dim memory of yearning unfurled in Fili’s mind, the pressure of wanting and not being able to have a constant irritant until he thought it would drive him insane. 

“True,” he said fervently. “All too true.” 

It was only when the sun started setting that Kili and Faramir appeared. Kili looked serene enough, brow unfurrowed and hair unbound. Faramir seemed to have soaked up all of the anxiety, his lips pursed. 

“I can’t do much for them,” he confided after a long missed hello. “But I think Aragorn might. He still talks to people that I’ve forgotten about. He and Arwen are out at the hives. They usually sleep out if the weather’s good, so we won’t see them until tomorrow morning.” 

“It can keep for one night,” Fili decided. Tentative, he held a hand out to Kili, relieved beyond measure when fingers slid into his without coaxing. 

“Fire?” Kili asked, sounding younger than anyone sitting at the table. 

“Yes,” Eowyn glanced at Faramir. “I think we can manage one.” 

The firepit had grown a few new benches since their last visit and gained a few mismatched lumpy cushions that looked suspiciously like old dress fabric. 

“I don’t like sewing,” Eowyn wrinkled her nose. “I thought I’d try to make our clothes.” 

“No good?” Fili asked with a wry half-smile. 

“The worst,” she rolled her eyes. 

“Maybe you should let Faramir give it a shot.” 

“He’s a natural. Of course,” she sighed. “He made everything I’m wearing except my shoes. Infuriating man.” 

The night crept it, darkness wrapping blankets further around their shoulders. The fire reached new heights. The boys were telling stories to each other, Boromir’s rough laugh counterpoint to the others’ higher pitched giggles. The adults passed around a bottle of homemade rotgut that burned down Fili’s throat. 

He didn’t mean to fall asleep, but Kili was warm and solid against him, a protection against the wind and the melancholy that surfaced without warning. He woke hours later, stiff and chill, his head pillowed on Kili’s lap. The fire had mellowed to a low crackle, hissing through the charred wood.

“Ugh,” he turned his face to rub against Kili’s denim covered thigh. “You should’ve woken me.” 

“I was thinking,” Kili said quietly, his hand rested in Fili’s hair, describing circles in his scalp. “About her. It seemed the least I could do. Try to print my memories as firmly as I can in my mind.” 

“You could write them down,” Fili suggested, stretching very slowly and carefully.

“No. I don’t think I could,” Kili shook his head, tilting his face up to the faithless stars that shone so equally on them all. 

“I wish I’d met her, before,” Fili said quietly. 

“You did,” Kili said abstractly. “Just not while you were awake.” 

“I’m not sure dreams count,” Fili teased gently. 

“No?” Kili frowned. “Then I might have discount large sections of my twenties.” 

“None of it was a dream,” Fili said firmly. “I’m here. Your work and your apartment and me...that’s all real, Kili.” 

“I know.” It was light and breezy and false. “I’m just distracted. Not listening to what I’m saying.” 

“Let’s get you to bed,” Fili determined, propping himself upwards and then dragging Kili after him. 

Their room was as they’d last seen it. Their clothes shed, they climbed under the quilts and burrowed together. Kili kissed him once, feverishly, hands painfully hard on Fili’s shoulders. 

“Don’t leave me,” he demanded. 

“Never again,” Fili promised as he had countless times over the last ten years. 

The light crept under Fili’s eyelids, stirring him to life for a second time that night. This time, he was alone and he stared up at the cracked ceiling trying to sort through the whirlpool of feeling that had sucked him down over the last two days. 

He could hear life stirring in every corner of the house. He thought about loss and grief, how when their father died his heart had cracked and never fully healed. He thought about love and perversion, how he had longed for his own brother for longer than he cared to remember. He thought about being torn in two and sewn back together by the skilled, unfeeling hands of a surgeon with more knowledge than grace. 

When he finally rose, no one was left inside anymore. He ate his fill of honey soaked bread at the kitchen sink, looking out over the back acres that rolled in wheat gold. Aragorn and Arwen were striding through, dark swords in the light filled world. Fili wiggled his bare toes against the wooden floor thoughtfully, went to find his shoes before going out to greet them. 

“Faramir told me about your charges,” Aragorn said, in lieu of hello. 

“Those poor boys,” Arwen said softly. “We’ll take them where they need to go.” 

The weight lifted off his shoulders, so quick and smooth Fili thought he might float away. The boys were not his load to bear. Someone else would carry them forward into the unfeeling world and get them back home. He had done his part. 

They weren’t Kili. Weren’t his boy with his wide smile and patchwork heart. 

“Thank you,” he took both of their hands in heartfelt gratitude. 

He found Kili in the vegetable garden, sitting among the cabbages, a basket in his lap that Eowyn was briskly shucking corn over. The cornsilk drifted in the air, catching into Kili’s hair. His eyes were red rimmed, but dry. Fili sank carefully down beside him, knee in the dirt and hand on his shoulder to steady himself. Kili tilted his head back to smile, waveringly at him. 

“We’re going to make jam,” Eowyn decreed. 

“Not out of corn, I hope.” 

“Blackberries. They’re growing wild everywhere and Boromir will only eat the branches clean if we don’t attend to them soon.” 

The spent the morning gathering fruit that stained their fingers and mouths, greedy for sun soaked sweetness. The afternoon was enormous pots, cornstarch and sugar pouring freely from immense jars. By evening, rows of jars sat gleaming like jewels against the setting sun. 

“She would’ve loved this,” Kili set down the last jar, licking the last of the stubborn juice from one fingertip. 

“Tell me about her,” Fili pulled him down onto the bench they’d inadvertently drowsed on the night before. “Tell me everything.” 

“Why?” Kili leaned his head on Fili’s shoulder. 

“Then we’ll both remember.” 

The stories drifted like smoke between them. The lost year of Kili’s wanderings, the way Tauriel had planted him and helped him grow into the strong armed man that embraced his brother in a veteran's hospital a thousand miles and a decade ago. 

From that last homey house, Aragorn and Arwen would set out with a pack of boys on quest that would lead them to dark places. From that house, Eowyn and Faramir would hold firm against all that would besiege them and raise their son in the image of his uncle without letting him fall to that great man’s foibles. 

From that house, Fili and Kili would return to their own quiet nook with their incense soaked sheets and litter of tiny treasures. They would not travel again for many years, finding solace not in the far flung niches they had dug around the country, but in each other. Their insular world would remain untouched by the world’s greater doings. And there was only one person to thank for that chance. 

“I love you,” Fili whispered when Kili’s throat ran dry of stories. “This you. Who had her.” 

“Yeah?” Kili sounded infinitely young and hopeful. 

“Yeah,” a kiss pressed to the rise of Kili’s cheekbone. “There is no us without her. That, I can never forget.” 

“Good,” Kili laced their fingers together, locked unbreakably together. “That’s good.” 

One day they would come to the end of all their travels and even their memory would not be enough to preserve her, but Fili bit back the morbid thought and drew Kili impossibly closer. Time took care of all things, hurts and healing alike. For tonight, they were somewhere kind and the moon shone down on them. 

Though they could not see how the light played tricks on Fili’s golden head, a crown that flashed and winked into existence, only to fade away again as he leaned down to steal a kiss from his brother’s lips.


End file.
